I Call It Bliss
by Romadiere
Summary: My take on the events of Advent Children since there is no category for it! so... it is a bit strange. Haha. Hope you like it.


I Call It Bliss

Par Romadiere



FFVII and Advent Children characters belong to Square Enix sigh

Chapter One:

Solitude's Standing

Vincent Valentine swept mysteriously through the evening forest. A crimson mist in the night. It felt good to stretch his legs… his wings. It never occurred to him that "fear" lingered in the forest after sunset. The only thing he knew was that he needn't fear "what lurks in the darkness" for _he was_ what lurked there. He did not particularly like it, but he accepted it. Since losing the strange word called "love", he had learned to draw pleasure from another: "darkness". He appreciated like and all that God had given him. He did not like it… but was eternally grateful.

Kadaj's piercing stare shot through Loz's eyes and made him whimper, despite his stature of "older brother".

"We are lost, are we not?" Kadaj, the smallest brother, said as he watched his oldest struggling with the map.

"No," Loz said defensively and yet rather submissively, "we are merely at a directional stand-still." There was a heated moment of silence when he seriously wondered if Kadaj was going to drive his double-bladed sword, called _Souba_, into his forehead before a "hmph" sounded from the middle brother, Yazoo. Yazoo, the quietest, most mysterious of the three.

"Lost: adjective. Past tense and past participle of "lose". Definition one: ruined; broken; demolished. Definition two: To never be found again; absent. Definition three: no longer maintained or possessed. Definition four: Neither gained nor won. Definition five: having wandered from the way. Definition six: bemused, confounded, or mystified. Definition seven: wasted; misspent," he recited without looking up from his job of polishing his precious gun, the _Velvet Nightmare._ "Pay close attention to definition five, Loz," he said, his eyes never bothering to wander to his brother's annoyed ones. Kadaj sighed quite audibly.

"He is a stranger to me sometimes," he said as he forcefully snatched the map from Loz's hands. The oldest jumped slightly when he heard his mysterious brother begin to speak once again.

"Rain," he said, "noun. Chiefly Anglo-Saxon. Definition one: water descending in beads compressed from the moisture in the atmosphere. Definition two: falling in exactly 3… 2… 1…"

Kadaj and Loz simply stared at their long-haired brother when they felt gently drops of rain beginning to kiss their ghostly faces. It was Kaasan's kisses. The children in their souls yearned for the strange word called "love". They stood in awe for a few moments before the rain thickened. They looked questionably at each other.

"Does he have some sort of computer chip emplaned in his head that I am unaware of?" Loz asked. Kadaj snarled and whacked him with the soggy, useless map.

Vincent spun happily in the rain. His restless soul begging him to dance. The strange words began to sing in his mind. "Love", "joy", "bliss", "life"… "life".

"Life," he muttered. "A centimetre of life cannot be bought with a metre of gold." A very special woman had once told him that. The joy of life, his joie de vivre, began to flood his mind as he fantasized:

_"Welcome home, mon amor," the woman with brown hair said as she greeted her lover at the front door of their lovely manor on the hill. She reached out and grasped his hands, his two bare hands, and led him into the kitchen. _

_"I have made a very special dinner tonight. I have decided to begin a little game of the mind," she said with a sugary smile on her rounded, childlike face. The man with the long, black hair scanned the table and saw a variety of tempting delicacies. The scent of the Moroccan hour d'oeuvres was the first thing to invade his senses. Next came the sound of a summery song dancing timidly from the parlour. The woman returned to the kitchen carrying a wine red sheet of pure silk and a dainty smile. Her game had commenced and was working finely. His mind was beginning to cloud with passion. And she was only on sense number two. She laughed quietly as she placed the silk in her lover's hands and made him caress it. To take in its serene sensation. She overtook his fourth sense when she lifted her hand and placed a warm and gently sweet Belgian chocolate to his lips. He opened his mouth and allowed the treat to fog his mind even more with her lovely face in his view. When she arrived at his fifth sense, her lover was already engrossed in the heavenly feel of a word he called "bliss". _Falling into your nest, I call it _bliss_…

_Into the nest the man had fallen and this woman was his bliss. His joy… his life._

The play ended abruptly and the players returned to sleep in the dark gunslinger's mind, once again bringing him back to Darkness. He did not much like darkness. Her hair was black and her eyes cold. He much preferred the touch of Bliss. She of the roses and eyes of summer evenings. The joy seemed to fade when he realized that all the traces of Bliss were gone. Her only son, a man of one's nightmares, and dead at that, to never be seen again.

"Dead," the voice of a new character said in Vincent's mind, "chiefly Anglo-Saxon. Adjective. Definition one: no longer living; having died. Definition two: without life. Definition three: lacking feeling, energy… warmth… we are lacking feeling, energy, warmth. Would you save us from death? A _family?"_ The voice was deep and syrupy. It reminded Vincent of a morning shaded under a cloudy sky, bearing a threat to cry.

"Death," Yazoo said, causing both of his brothers to look up.

"What?" Kadaj asked with a look of annoyance on his childish face. He tended to dislike it when Yazoo was mysterious. It made him feel foolish that he did not understand his big brother.

Yazoo's eyes never left _Velvet_, but his hand did stop moving.

"We are tired. We are weak," steam poured sensually from his thin lips as the chill wrapped itself around him and his brothers. "Are we to give in to Death?" He asked more as a warning than a question. Kadaj's mind began to light up when the caveat struck him hard.

"Well, if you are feeling that weary then perhaps we shall find shelter for now. We passed a manor back there, perhaps the owner will be kind enough to grant us temporary stay until this cold rain ends." Kadaj knew that Yazoo was strong. He knew he was not weary at all. But he also knew that Yazoo's eyes saw things that others' could not. What other words did his brother know?

Vincent walked into his manor on the hill. His long, red cloak was weeping puddles on the floor. Despite the cold rain, the house felt alive. He still wished, however, that he had someone to walk in the rain with. It would be nice. The players stood once agan…

_"This is very nice," the brown-haired woman, called Bliss, said as she tightened her grip on her lover's left hand._

_"Indeed it is," the man, called Sin, said as he welcome the rain to drench him down. Despite the fact that it was November, the rain felt warm, and summery. "I am so very glad I have someone to walk with," he told her._

_"Truly? Me as well. It would not be as beautiful should one be alone…"_

And the players were gone once again. It made Vincent sad until the syrupy voice began again. "You know, one cannot rely on imaginary Bliss for the rest of his life. Unless of course this one wishes to continue being _sin_…"

"But I do not sin but merely thinking," Vincent moaned desperately at the thick voice in his mind.

"But do you only wish for _imaginary _Bliss? Where is the emotion? The desire? The physical _euphoria?" _

Vincent gasped when the voice began to describe aspects of one's deeper soul.

"Eventually, curse you… but… she is gone. When I am dead! I shall see her then! When I am dead! But for now I shall wait. She is gone. Gone and every little bit. I am lost. Forever life is lost…"

Before the voice could answer in his mind it was calling from the front door. _Reassurance_.

"Excuse me?" It said, "is anyone there?" Vincent stared a moment in awe. That voice…

"Euh yes! I apologize, I am coming!" He called as he swept to the door, his damp red cloak whipping heavily behind him. The large oaken doors were opened to reveal three men dressed in black uniforms of leather that appeared too militant for Vincent's comfort. He knew these men. He had heard much about them in his days with Solitude. (_Solitude stands by the window…_) They were the group of Kadaj. More children of Jenova. More… bits of what was once called Bliss.

"I apologize, Monsieur, but we have been wandering this area for days. It is becoming unbearably cold and—"

Vincent interrupted the familiar voice, "you need a place to stay?" He hoped the eager sounds had not resonated into his physical voice. Rather he wished they would stay only in his mind.

"Only briefly, very briefly. Perhaps only until morning comes," the man with the syrupy voice and long, silver hair said.

"Feel free to come in," Vincent moved aside for the three shivering men. "Would you like some dry clothing?" He offered, suddenly wondering where he would find clothing small enough to fit the tiniest among the three who he assumed to be Kadaj. The man he had spoken to had said that Kadaj was the youngest brother, but also the dominant leader of his group.

"Euh no, we are well, thank you," the syrupy-voiced man said. It suddenly occurred to Vincent that he would like to know how to address these men. That man.

"May I ask your names?" Vincent enquired. The smallest was now the one to speak. Kadaj.

"My name is Kadaj, and these are my brothers, Loz," and to the man with the sonorous voice of knowledge, "Yazoo." Vincent nodded, wondering if he should tell them his real name. He decided to elaborate a bit, but he could definitely not allow them the knowledge that he had been involved with Cloud Strife. That could cause trouble. He was very well aware of the fact that these men knew Cloud.

"My name is Vincent," he said, "Vincent Lysâme." The lie was directed mostly at Yazoo. (_Mon âme, mon amor, ma foi…_)

The other two appeared to have believed him but the mysterious brother, Yazoo, seemed to see the truth in his eyes. Although he accepted it with grace. He knew what the lie meant, at least subconsciously. A connection was made just then.

When he was certain that his three visitors were asleep, Vincent picked up the house phone (_since I do not have a cell phone_, he thought with a strange twist to his handsome features) and dialled his friend's number.

"Hello?" A sweet voice with hidden care.

"Cloud. It is Vincent."

"Vincent! Where—"

"Listen closely, you must have heard the rumours about Kadaj's gang?" Vincent asked, gravity pushing into his physical voice.

"Yes," Cloud answered, "I have heard of them but I know nothing of them."

"They are children of Jenova. Brothers to Sephiroth." This got a chocked gasp of horror from Cloud. That one name.

"Sephiroth!"

"Yes. I have been researching the matter a slight and I have been told that they wish to bring him back to being along with…" Cloud took a nervous breath when Vincent paused with pain, "… Jenova. A family reunion of sorts."

"What shall we do then?"

"Cloud?" Vincent's voice was low and cautious. It worried his friend greatly.

"Yes? What is the trouble, Vincent?"

"They are here." Tout simplement.

"What! They have you? Are you alright? That have they done? Have they—"

"Nothing, Cloud. They have done nothing. They do not know yet exactly who I am. But I _know_ that they are aware of your being. Being the children of Jenova… _geostigma_. They have been wandering about and it became terribly cold out. I allowed them a stay at my home." This brought a gasp and a curse of pure nonsense from Cloud.

"Vincent, why in all the world would you—"

"Because you are going to return to us. You and Tifa and the others congregate and meet up here _before_ sunrise. I can keep them here peacefully until you arrive." The plan clicked in Cloud's mind. He would return. _However manipulative Vincent is being,_ he though sourly, _I will return._

"Alright then. We will be up there in no time. Hang on Vincent."

"Thank you so very much, Cloud, and—" Vincent stopped talking when he heard footsteps nearing his location.

"Vincent? Are you well?" Cloud asked rather frantically.

The black-haired gunslinger turned and jumped when Yazoo entered the kitchen. He turned back to the telephone.

"Thank you, Mother. That would be lovely. I shall see you soon. I love you, and good evening," he hung up before turning back to Yazoo, who looked rather like a zombie. ("What the—?" Cloud glanced with confusion at the telephone.)

"Are you well?" Vincent asked as he neared the silver-haired man cautiously.

"Wha-what? Euh I am sorry," he said, a bit of red appearing across his white nose. It accented his silver hair oddly well. "I um…"

"Sleepwalk?" Vincent suggested, wishing so desperately that he could help. But also wishing he did not want to help so desperately. He was supposed to be solitary. And like it. (_She turns her head as I walk in the room. I can see by her eyes she's been waiting…_)

"Um, not quite. My uh—medication. It causes m a bit of… disorientation. I am sorry, I—"

"It is alright. Have no worries." Vincent knew that he was not familiar with this man in any way but he was quite certain that he was not one to open up to many. He wondered suddenly why he had mentioned the medication.

"Trust," Yazoo chimed unexpectedly.

"What?" Vincent tilted his head slightly and amicably.

"Trust: a firm belief in the honesty or reliability of some person or thing; faith," he recited and the black-haired man was immediately intrigued though he dare not say anything for fear of frightening this delicate creature off. "Why did you trust us? Trust us enough to allow us a stay?" Yazoo enquired with timidity threatening to show itself. Vincent was unsure of how to answer this.

"Well uh, you three seem… trustworthy I suppose," he said, not wishing to insult the man and yet not wishing to encourage him too far. Vincent knew who and what Yazoo was after all.

"Were you lonely?" The silver-haired gunslinger asked, the look of the dead once again revealing itself in his eyes.

Vincent shut his mouth straight away when he realized that it had been hanging open. "I suppose. I have lived alone most of my life and although I enjoy my Solitude," (_standing in the slant of the late afternoon…_), "I suppose I rather appreciate the company as well," he said this with a laugh more so because he realized that he too was suddenly saying deep feelings to this stranger. Yazoo pretended he did not see the humiliation flooding Vincent's eyes.

"Well," he began quietly before a crash sounded from the back hallway. Vincent's eyes narrowed in disappointment. His body and mind screamed to know what the silver-haired man was about to say.

"What was that?" Yazoo said instead.

"I do not know, shall we investigate?" Vincent asked.

"Indeed." They walked together into the hallways. "Euh goodness," Yazoo said rather sarcastically when he spotted his two brothers beating each other on the floor.

"What _are_ you two doing!" He shouted. This caused all the men, including Vincent, to look at him for he was clearly not one to speak loudly.

"He called me short!" Kadaj walked and Vincent noticed the subtle difference in his voice from when he had first arrived a few hours ago. It was… younger. It fit his face better.

"Yes well, you kicked me you little brat!" Loz shouted at his youngest brother and his voice sounded older. More audacious than submissive to Kadaj. What was once fear was now brotherly annoyance. Kadaj was no longer his leader but his brother.

"After _you_ pushed me!" The smallest one argued. Yazoo shook his head and Vincent could see the blush appearing on his ashen face once again.

"I apologize," he said gently to Vincent, "they have not fought this childishly since they were children. It is rather strange and yet it feels nice to have the old days back," Yazoo said with a weary smile.

"No worries, Yazoo," Vincent answered. "It must be nice to have brothers. I was an only child and learned to solve Solitude." (_And she turns to me with her hand extended…_)

"It is nice," the silver-haired man answered with an innocent smile. "We drive each other mad and yet it is beautiful to have family." The last word hit Vincent hard. _Family._

"YAZOOOO!" Kadaj wailed as he sprinted away from Loz and grasped his middle brother's waist tightly. "He is trying to kill me!" The childlike squeak was beginning to bloom in his voice. And once again his face seemed more at home with that voice. He coughed a bit and his brother pet his back before acknowledging his shouting.

"Kadaj, what is—ack!" Yazoo clung to Kadaj when Loz charged at them like a bull. He had a red scrape down the side of one of his well-fashioned cheeks.

"KADAJ!" He was roaring.

"Loz! Stop, leave him alone!" Yazoo cried as he moved away from Loz's swatting arm.

"Ouais, Loz, leave me alone!" the youngest shrieked when his oldest brother's hand missed his face by centimetres. He coughed into Yazoo's body and his long-haired brother groaned.

"I cannot believe you scratched me!" the oldest shouted as he showed Yazoo his battle-wound. "Look what he did! You must cut his nails!" Kadaj was now wailing and clinging tightly to Yazoo's waist.

"I see you are the mediator?" Vincent said quietly with a sincere grin. He could not help but find this comical.

Yazoo grinned back and nodded before turning back to his brothers. "Yes, Kadaj, that is monstrous, cut those nails. Do not scratch. That is not even decent fighting."

"I did not mean to scratch him! His big, empty head was in the way of my hand," Kadaj stated rather simply. Loz smacked him off the back of the head. "Aïe!" He screeched.

"Stop," Yazoo soothed as he placed his hands over Kadaj's head, protecting it from Loz's fury. "Both of you, it is not polite to try to kill each other in another's home. Wait until we are out." Kadaj snickered at this. As did Vincent.

"Yes, Monsieur Yazoo," Kadaj said as he slid out of his brother's arms and skipped off down the hall. "It is not polite to try to kill me in another's home, Loz!" He taunted as he disappeared around a corner towards his assigned bedroom.

"And you, do not start things!" Yazoo called after him. "Are you alright?" he asked Loz who now had small droplets of blood running down his face.

"I am fine. Sorry, good night," he said rapidly as he walked off muttering profanities about his "corrupt" little brother. Yazoo turned his blushing face back to Vincent.

"Sorry again," he said with a smile that could not be hidden.

"And again I shall say, have no worries," Vincent said with more light than usual. "It is quite alright." He placed his right hand on Yazoo's shoulder and coaxed him off to bed. "Sleep well, and tell me if you three need anything, yes?" Yazoo nodded and walked off, his hips swaying rather femininely as he did so before he turned back around, a few metres from Vincent.

"Thank you again. We are eternally grateful!" He said as he waved. Vincent waved back.

"And you are also eternally welcome."

Vincent sat up in his large bed of blood red sheets and wine-coloured pillows when the morning struck his soul. He felt "joy" pressing against the sides of his lips. Where normally he would push it away, today he allowed the joy to pull his features into a warm smile. It seemed all good when he realized that something was wrong. Cloud had never showed up. He jumped frantically out of bed and leaned out his doorway to look into the halls. He knew that Cloud would have woke him up should he have arrived. And there was no sign of any struggle in the hallways, in fact he was certain he could still hear Kadaj muttering peacefully in his sleep and another thought hit him: he did not _want_ Cloud to rid of these men. But he still worried for the fact that his friend had never appeared. He walked to the window and peered out. Horror melted his handsome features. The heavily falling rain had turned to snow in the evening, blanketing everything in at least a metre and a half of pure white sugar. And it was still falling thick. So thick that Vincent could not even see the trees that lived so close to his manor.

"Cloud..." he muttered as his eyes widened. _Her palm is split with a flower and a flame. _

_Solitude stands by the window  
She turns her head as I walk in the room  
I can see by her eyes she's been waiting  
Standing in the slant of the late afternoon_

And she turns to me with her hand extended  
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

Solitude stands in the doorway  
And I'm struck once again by her black silhouette  
By her long cool stare and her silence  
I suddenly remember each time we've met

And she turns to me with her hand extended  
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

And she says "I've come to set a twisted thing straight"  
And she says "I've come to lighten this dark heart"  
And she takes my wrist, I feel her imprint of fear  
And I say "I've never thought of finding you here"

I turn to the crowd as they're watching  
They're sitting all together in the dark in the warm  
I wanted to be in there among them  
I see how their eyes are gathered into one

And then she turns to me with her hand extended  
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

And she says "I've come to set a twisted thing straight"  
And she says"l've come to lighten this dark heart"  
And she takes my wrist, I feel her imprint of fear  
And I say "I've never thought of finding you here"

Solitude stands in the doorway  
And I'm struck once again by her black silhouette  
By her long cool stare and her silence  
I suddenly remember each time we've met

And she turns to me with her hand extended  
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

-Suzanne Vega "Solitude Standing"


End file.
